


Almost

by DearMissV



Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: Gen, I'm Sorry, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, mentioned past suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 13:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20489459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DearMissV/pseuds/DearMissV
Summary: He always felt ill when he thought of what could have been.Years after Julia dies, David finds himself struggling to cope.





	Almost

David sat and stared into space. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Lately. As if it had only just happened. As if he wasn’t scarred and lonely. It had been years. Three to be exact. Vicky had moved on; Ella was in high school and Charlie had gotten much better at reading. And here he was, sitting on the ground trying not to cry. 

The months after his name had been cleared were the hardest. Finding the people who did _it_, unravelling the knot, had been what drove him initially. But after that, there was nothing. He and Vicky had tried to keep it together for the kids, but they had grown too far apart. Julia had given him something Vicky never could. He still felt guilty about that. Maybe he could have put in more of an effort, really make a go of being a dad and husband things would have been different. But he lost a part of himself the day the bomb went off at St Matthew’s. If he was being honest with himself, by that stage it was already too late to try and fix things with his family. 

He thought back to that afternoon, the one when he knelt on the floor of his flat, put a gun to his head, and pulled the trigger. He had thought it was the guilt that drove him to it. Guilt over not protecting the principal. Over not protecting Julia. There was a touch of that undoubtedly, but he knew now that it was mostly overwhelming grief that made him do it. He had, and still was grieving over all that he had lost and could have had. He knew how she felt, she had said as much in the back room before walking on stage.

_I want you right beside me. Not because it’s your job, but because it’s our choice._

And he didn’t reply. He didn’t know how to at the time- couldn’t find the words. She died having never heard how he felt. He had left their relationship in a liminal space, not quite making it official. He should have said yes and accepted whatever she was offering. Even if it all went wrong and they ended up hating each other at the end of it, at least he’d know. At least he wouldn’t have to guess at what life with her would have been like. 

He had an inkling though that it wouldn’t have gone wrong. The few precious moments he had shared with her told him that they would have been happy together. Just him and her. Julia and David. He tried to swallow down the bile that was rising in his throat. He always felt ill when he thought of what could have been. It was a form of torture really, living a life in his head that had never been physically lived. What he saw in his mind’s eye weren’t even memories, they were fantasies. David knew he should get help, find someone to talk to, but as much as imagining a life with Julia hurt, him not having her in any capacity, even imagined, would be devastating. So, he ignored the sick feeling in his belly, and continued imagining. His favourite fantasies involved the everyday boring stuff. Waking up next to her day after day, meeting her family and her meeting his, the odd weekend spent away from London, or even just evenings at home. 

_Home_. It was an unfamiliar concept to him now. Technically his home was still the tiny flat he had when he first met her. But that had never felt like home, not truly. And he supposed in a way he had a home with Vicky and the kids, ‘home is where the family is’ and all, but even that didn’t feel right. After all this time his home was at Overstrand Mansions, in her flat; or maybe it was the suite at the Blackwood. His home, put simply, was wherever they had been happy. He knew how sick that was, how pathetic. She wasn’t there anymore. She would never wait impatiently in the hallway or knock on the interconnecting door. But he couldn’t help it. He felt more at home in those two places with her than with his own family or in his own flat. Cocooned against the world they had created something neither of them expected. A home, a safe haven, a sanctuary. 

Over the course of the past three years David had developed a number of strange coping mechanisms. Or if not strange than at least questionable. He swore up and down that they helped him, but all they did was serve as a reminder of her passing. He came to the cemetery regularly. He actively avoided the anniversary of her death; it was too crowded. So, he came on days of no significance; days when it would just be him standing at the foot of her grave. He had also taken to drinking wine. He knew she favoured a particular sauvignon blanc from the South Island of New Zealand, it cost him an arm and a leg, but he drank it occasionally. Usually on the anniversary of her death, he didn’t deal with it very well and so chose to get wine drunk instead. It wasn’t a healthy coping method, but it worked. The one method David like the most though, was simply an article of clothing. Julia always had nice clothes; she wore things that were soft to the touch. His favourite had always been the burgundy cashmere jumper. He didn’t have that specific jumper, though he would have loved just to be in possession of it. Instead he got the next best thing and splurged on one for himself. He couldn’t find one in his size and the same colour, so he got a deep blue. She always liked it when he wore blue. It was a little thing, but somehow, he felt closer to her when he wore it. He wore it often; so often in fact that a few holes had appeared near the collar. He didn’t dare replace it though, it was the closest thing he’d get to being held by her again. 

David had been at the cemetery for longer than was strictly necessary, and the sun was beginning to set. It was time to go. Shoving his hand in a pocket he grabbed a crumpled piece of paper. Ella had had an assignment where she had to analyse a short story. She had shown him the one she selected by Nikita Gill. It was incredibly short and very simply worded, yet it spoke volumes. It said more about his and Julia’s relationship in seven short sentences than David would ever be able to communicate. He had hastily written it down on a piece of paper, the same one he now held. He would leave it here, no doubt it would get rained on and go soggy before disintegrating, but it was a gesture. An anonymous one at that. If anyone came across it, they would know and perhaps feel the weight of his despair even if they didn’t know him. He smoothed out a few creases and rubbed his thumb over the words. He took a deep breath and released it before raising the paper to his lips for a whisper of a kiss. Setting it down and propped up against the headstone. He turned then and made his way out of the cemetery. It was only then he let a few tears escape. 

They had almost made it.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't bear to have David and Julia apart for long so it's only a really short one-shot for you. I'm sorry it's so sad, but I couldn't get it out of my head, and I was struggling to write other things. I hope you like it. 
> 
> You can find Nikita Gill's short story here [Tiny Stories](https://weheartit.com/entry/244535159)  
I didn't include it because I was worried about copyright 🙃


End file.
